


Judy and the Lion's Jaw

by TrisB



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Dreams, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-16
Updated: 2005-06-16
Packaged: 2017-10-29 06:37:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrisB/pseuds/TrisB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You could have been anything.  Anyone.  And then you became a henchman.  A lackey.  God, and I almost thought you were on to something."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Judy and the Lion's Jaw

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to "Mt. St. Helens" by Mirah.

Safely ensconced in the Kathy-free comfort of 214 Stevenson, Buffy rolls over in bed and dreams.

She is with Faith.  They're walking by a river that Buffy doesn't recognize; she hears the insistent rush of a waterfall nearby.  Faith is smiling, reveling in the surroundings.  The reflection of the sunlight in the water is almost blinding.

"I won't look any further than my own backyard, because if it isn't there, I never really lost it to begin with," Faith recites out of the blue.

Buffy groans.  "More of _this_?"

Faith's smile is mischievous.  "What, B, you're not down with Dor and the Tin Man?  Word up to the Scarecrow?  Oh, come on."

"Hey," says Buffy, "the Scarecrow was _all_ yours, thank you very much.  Personally, for me — it's totally the Lion."

"Cowardly?  Yeah, okay," laughs Faith, "I got it.  Cute."

Buffy takes a moment, squints at the sky-filled water.  "We're not talking about _The Wizard of Oz_ anymore, are we?"

Faith laughs again while setting herself down by the bank, Indian style, and picking at some pebbles just beneath the surface.  "Kansas is so passé," she murmurs, and twirls her pointer finger in the water.  She cocks her chin up and grins ruefully at Buffy.  "I know the feeling."

So, yes, it is more of _this_ , and Buffy has had considerably more than enough.  "You know, I never got it."

"Got what?  The Oz metaphor?  Awww.  And you a full-fledged college girl."

"Your deal.  You always talked so big, Faith," adopting a deeper tone of voice, " _we're strong, we're special, we're better, we're different_.  You could never face the idea, could you, of us being like anyone else."

"What, and you still think you are?  Did you _ever_?  Get the hell off your high horse, B," snaps Faith.  "You're no better than me and you know you're nothing like them.  Yeah, go ahead and fuck your precious 'normal' boyfriend.  Make up spells with your normal little sidekick and her Joe Average pet wolf, go play Legos with your little demon —"

"Okay, when have I _ever_ spent recreational time with Anya, on purpose or —"

"Whatever!  And then you look around and you see good old Xander, your faithful retriever, so inept it makes _you_ want to vomit, Buffy, don't lie to me, I know it does, but you're all playing it cool like this is all you've ever wanted.  You're there for the people.  You love your little Scarecrow.  And meanwhile everyone around you with half a brain is scrambling to keep up, trying to make themselves special so that _you_ , Buffy Summers, you don't tell them to get lost.  And they know you will.  Because you don't know how to relate to humans."

Faith's words have lost all ironic detachment or dreamy vagueness, and Buffy can practically feel the heat rising from her, but she takes a moment and sits down on the bank too, dipping her feet in the water.  Sandals and all.  Buffy wriggles her toes.  "That's not how it is."

"I've got eyes, Mother Teresa.  I've got a stomach.  No thanks to you.  Yeah, you're normal."

"No," says Buffy, "it's not me.  It's you.  In all your talk, all your grandeur, you always said we were better.  Different.  And then you turned around, and you stabbed some guy in a dark alley."  She lifts her gaze so that green eyes can meet brown, and dips her hand in the water simultaneously.  "I was starting to believe you, Faith.  But then you turned out to be nothing but a petty crook."

Faith's lips curl in some unidentifiable expression.  "I was petty, was I."

"Yeah," says Buffy.  "You could have been anything.  Anyone.  And then you became a henchman.  A lackey.  God, and I almost thought you were on to something."

"Hey, everyone's gotta start somewhere," Faith mutters to the pebbles she can't stop picking at.

"I guess they do."

"Doesn't matter, B.  It doesn't matter how low or little I am.  You're still in my boat.  You said I wanted it this way.  You gave it to me."  Faith pats her abdomen with a gingery touch, and then looks up and grins at Buffy toothily.  "I guess we just use our big honkin' power for different things.  That's all."

Buffy, who didn't quite hear, whispers, "And where it stops..."

"...No one knows."  Faith's hands claw through the gravel, yank something up that had been buried in the silt.

The giant slab of yellow granite that has appeared, brought to the surface by the strength of Faith's two hands alone, is tall, jagged, and slick with the water of the roaring quarry.

*  *  *  *  *

Buffy awakens an hour later and remembers nothing.  Faith's sleep is denser, and she doesn't wake up at all.


End file.
